


Loads of Buggerall

by bravinto



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alcohol, Historical References, Movie Night, Multi, Vlad Dracula - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 12:38:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8208314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravinto/pseuds/bravinto
Summary: A place to post my small ficlets and prompt fills for GO Pairing and prompt in the chapter titlesI'll update characters and tags when I add new chapters





	1. Aziraphale/Crowley, first time watching a horror movie together

**Author's Note:**

> Now that I have two ficlets I feel justified posting them here

“It _is_ a little eerie, don’t you think?”, Aziraphale asked in his favourite tone of benevolent condescension, earning them an angry look from a lady in a pink hat in the front row.

  
 The thater was packed full. Aziraphale wanted to go on a quieter time, of course; but Crowley thought it’d be way more interesting to watch the audience, not the movie itself. With a bottle-shaped bribe and some sweet-talking Crowley managed to change the angel’s mind, and thus they were sitting in the back row of a dark theater. It was stuffy and dusty there; rays of light were flickering above their heads. 

  
Crowley lifted his glasses a notch and contemplated the long shadow of Nosferatu creeping across the screen.

  
“Well, yes, but. Not as eerie as the real thing”.

  
“You mean, the Wallachian prince?”

  
“That’s the one. This sport is just a monster, that one was a man”.

  
“Yes, he was a splendid character… I had an honour to meet him, once”.

  
“Oh, did you?” 

  
Crowley was certain that if the angel had ever told him about meeting Vlad Dracula, he would have remembered it.

  
“Yes. You see, there were rumours about him and I was ordered to investigate, exactly how… human he was, if you know what I mean”.

  
Crowley snorted. The lady _glared_.

  
“ Full human, what else”.

  
“It proved so, and I learned quite a lot more. Apparently, he was not just a cruel executor, but also a revered protector against the Ottoman Empire, and he’s considered a national hero by Romanians, well known for charity and bravery”.

  
“You see, this is what I’m talking about!”, Crowley hissed. “Bloody terrifying”.

  
The pink hat lady turned to them:

  
“Seid gefälligst still!”

  
“Entschuldigung!” Aziraplale said, “bedauere sehr!”

  
He was not sorry at all, though, the smug bastard.


	2. Aziraphale and Crowley, scary movies

“Naberius is really great at thisss, his favourite trick at corporate parties” Crowley mumbles from where he’s snuggled cozily in Aziraphale’s conveniently soft lap.

The creature on the screen turns itself inside-out, chatters it’s pointy teeth at the protagonist and her love interest, everybody screams. Normally Crowley would be more interested in the movie, but it’s either the third or the forth they’ve seen tonight, and he’s had a significant volume of wine, so he can be excused for being a little distracted. Why they decided to watch so many horror films is a foggy memory by now, it could have involved some sort of bet, or it could have not, at this point it doesn’t really matter; the only thing that matters is - warm, steady, together, safe.

“I thought, he was the one for rhetro… rhetort… rhe-to-ric,” Aziraphale mumbles back, because he’s had just as much wine.

“He is! But you’ve gotta have a hobby, ya know?” The sentence doesn’t really offer a chance to hiss, so he adds, after a small pause, “Sssss.”

“I s’ppose, you are right,” Aziraphale replies with a faraway look in his eye, and Crowley must shut that down immediately, if he doesn’t want to suffer through an embarrassing magician relapse.

He steals a handful of popcorn from Aziraphale’s bowl and hears - feels - him huff.

“Must you, really,” the angel says tartly, moving his bowl possessively out of Crowley’s reach.

“Yessss, sorta do. Gluttony, greed, and all that, you know.”

“Oh, okay, then, help yourself,” Aziraphale says, bringing it back.

The irony flies right over the angel’s head, as always. Sometimes Crowley almost feels bad for messing with him, but then he gets annoyed all over again and needs to annoy him back. It’s the endless dance of annoyance that is somehow pleasant, too; but right now the way it’s rocking Crowley’s wine-tinted view is giving him the spins, so he turns away from the TV and buries his face in Aziraphale’s soft stomach. 

He’s almost asleep when another scream from the screen startles him.


End file.
